More Links

It only took a few hours of research by Dan Gwinn. I'd suggested that he look for a child born in the early 1860s. He began by re-examining his Rock family history. I was thrilled to get an email that started, "I think I may have found something." His third-great-grandmother Mary Ann Cooper Hornberger was the originator of the album. In it, she collected pictures of her aunts and uncles. Her uncle Allen and his wife Mary had a daughter Lydia, born in 1861.

In the back of the album was a labeled picture of Lydia from circa 1880. Take a close look at her smile and features.They match the little girl in the fringed chair! Don't you love the marcel wave in her hair?

The little girl, whom we now know as Lydia, and the older woman had their picture taken in the same studio. Allen's wife, Mary, was born in 1839. The older woman is quite possibly her.

Dan's third-great-grandmother arranged the photos in the album. On the first page is an unidentified man. In the second and third spots are Mary (the woman above) and Lydia. Could the man be Allen? It's very possible. The revenue stamp on the back of this photo dates it to between Aug. 1, 1864, and Aug. 1, 1866. This man is the right age to be Allen. Generally, family members are kept together in an album's arrangement.

The first person in an album is someone that an album's arranger knew very well. There was a close family relationship between Allen and his niece (Dan's third-great-grandmother). She admired him enough to name one of her own children after him.

Dan wonders if the little girl's boots are prominently displayed to show off her father's wares. Uncle Allen Rock was an well-known boot and shoe store owner in Lancaster City, Pa.

The clues led Dan to identify not one, but three family photos. It's equivalent to a home run hit.

Solve your family photo mysteries with these books by Maureen A. Taylor:

I love a good story, don't you? Every photo album tells one if you know where to look. The arrangement of the images is a key part of unraveling the threads of the tale.

If you're like Daniel Gwinn, you probably inherited a family photo album with few (if any) identified photos. Here's how to approach this very common photographic brick wall.

Start with provenance. Who owned the album before you? Who owned it before them? The ownership of the album can help you determine from which branch of the family it descends.

Who's on the first page? OK, so you might not immediately know the answer to this question, but this person can unlock the whole album. The person in the number one spot is a very important person to the creator of the album. It could be a mother, a father, a husband, a child or in a few instances, it's the creator of the album. Place this photo in a time frame by studying photographic format, clothing and any other clues that are in the image.

Who's next? The individuals closest to the front are also very important to the person who laid out the album. Generally, husbands and wives are grouped together on adjacent pages.

Not everyone in the album is necessarily family. Nineteenth-century individuals collected photographs of family, friends, neighbors and even famous persons. Your album might be a mix of these.

Each album starts with good intentions. The person placing the photos in the book likely had a plan for at least the first half of it. I've seen a lot of family photo albums and they have those good intentions in common—but by the end of the album, images are usually jumbled.

Like any good book, it's best to begin at the beginning. Don't jump around or rush to the ending. Each page needs to be studied and placed in a time frame and a place. Photographer's imprints can help you place an image geographically. Every little detail can assist in the identification.

In Daniel's case, the album came to him through his great aunt Elsie Hornberger. It belonged to her grandmother. He knows that most of the individuals in it are members of the Rock family, with origins in Lancaster County, Pa. He's submitted two tintypes that are complete mysteries.

Tintypes were patented in 1856 and remained common until the 1930s.

A few details in this picture place it in a time frame:

The fringed velvet chair. This is a photographer's prop. Chairs like it appear in photographs taken all over the United States. I've never seen it in a photo taken before the late 1860s.

The woman wears a bodice called a polanaise with long ends that drape down over the skirt. In many cases, the skirt has ruffles and ruching. This woman's skirt is plain.

This photo dates from approximately 1869 to 1875.

Dan thinks the woman could be Caroline Rock Cooper, born in 1828. That would make this woman's age in her 40s

I love the little book on her lap. It appears to have a plush cover and a round medallion on it.

There's something else that's interesting. Did you notice that the picture is reversed? Unless a photographer used a reversal lens, early images are mirrored. Here's the book with the reversal fixed.

Here's the whole image with the reversal fixed.

She holds the book with her right hand and her left arm rests on the chair.

Dan's second photo show a little girl smiling for the photographer sitting in the same chair.

It's obviously the same studio because it's an identical rug and chair. The hat is great! It has a wide brim, mid-size crown and features feathers and a velvet ribbon and bow. In the late 1860s, little girls wore dresses similar to those worn by their mothers. The yoked bodice and small ruffled collar point to this image being taken around the same time as the first picture, of the woman. The big question is, "Who is she?"

She's probably around 10 years of age.

She's not Caroline's daughter, Mary Ann, who was born in 1852. Mary Ann would be 18 in 1870

While the older woman could be Caroline Rock Cooper, it also could be someone else in the family. It's unlikely that the girl is Caroline's daughter.

In order to solve this mystery, Dan needs to examine his family tree for a girl born in approximately 1860. These two photos could be mother and daughter, so locating a girl born in that year could solve both of his photo mysteries.

If you've ever read The Jungle (available free on Project Gutenberg), author Upton Sinclair's 1906 novel describing Chicago's meatpacking industry, then
you may have tried to imagine what it was like to work in that industry in the early 20th century. Roxanne Munn's photos
provide an glimpse into how meat made it to our ancestors' dinner tables.

Above, Munn's great-grandfather Frank Woletz stands with his hands on the counter, furthest forward on the right. His supervisor stands on the other side of the table. He's the man in the coat, tie and hat. The rest of the workers wear leather aprons to protect their clothes while preparing meat for market. In the background are carcasses. Woletz worked at Drummond's Meat Cutting Plant in Eau Claire, Wis.

Canadian immigrant David Drummond established his meat packing business in 1873. Forty years later it was the largest plant of its type in northwestern Wisconsin.

In this image, Marie Woletz, Roxanne's great-aunt, sits second from the right in the sausage preparation room. On the left is a ranch full of hanging sausages. Typical outfits for women working in this industry were leather aprons and white muslin caps.

Roxanne is trying to find out who else is in the photos. She's also posted them on the Wisconsin GenWeb site hoping for more identifications. If you had an ancestor who worked at Drummond's, you might recognize one of the faces.

These images are not your typical family photo. It's the type of photo taken by factory owners, labor activists and government investigators. I'd love to know who took the images and for what purpose. I'm looking for additional images taken at the plant.

Solve your family photo mysteries with these books by Maureen A. Taylor:

Thank you for sending in your photographs of ancestors at work! I've got quite a selection to show you. This is going to be a two-part article. There are too many to show in one blog post.

Wendy Negley owns this lovely picture (above) of her great-grandfather Frank Stefani with his laundry delivery wagon in Issaquah, Wash., in 1913. Frank immigrated from Sporminore, Trentino, Italy, but lived most of his life in Issaquah.

Wendy says Frank owned the laundry and it was a family business. His son ran the company and Frank's daughters did all the washing and ironing, while he picked up and delivered to customers.

Carol Norwood's paternal grandfather, William John Jacobs (above), was a blacksmith. He learned his trade as an apprentice in Ireland and when he immigrated in 1907, he found employment in the United States.

William worked for the John B. Stetson Co. in Philadelphia from March 1917 until October 1935. He served in World War I and during his service, worked in the locomotion machine shop.

This 1945 photo was taken at the Johnsville Naval Air Development Center in Warminster, Pa. It was poster-size and on display at the center.

Jackie Corrigan sent in two pictures. This one (above) shows her husband's grandfather Michael Charles Corrigan (right) (1844-1915) in his harness-making shop. She believes it was taken in Winnipeg, Manitoba, between 1903 and 1911.

Norwood's second image (above) depicts her father, Thomas (1909-1972), who was a welder for the Canadian National Railways.

What do all these pictures have in common? They depict only men at work. All date from the first half of the 20th century.

Next week I'll be back with an office scene and two images taken in a meat packing plant.

Solve your family photo mysteries with these books by Maureen A. Taylor:

Do you know what your ancestors did for work? My paternal grandfather painted houses and so did his father. My maternal grandmother worked in a cotton mill alongside the rest of her family. Their stories were passed down in the family and evidence in documents like city directories and census records added more details.

Throughout the centuries, men, women and even children labored to support their families. You may think you know the whole story behind your ancestral work history, but there could be missing pieces.

Women often worked outside the home before marriage, then afterwards stayed home to raise children. However, many of these women also had jobs or juggled multiple volunteer positions. During World War II, women returned to the workforce to fill jobs once held by men. One of my aunts found employment in a ship-building factory.

In this picture a woman welds pieces of a cooling system at the Washtenaw County, Mich., Willow Run Bomber Plant in July 1942. A woman photographer, Ann Rosener, took the picture. You can view more of these WWII photos at the Library of Congress website.

Child labor laws are a 20th century phenomena. Many of our grandparents (and earlier generations) worked in fields and factories.

Joe Manning fills in the rest. His Lewis Hine project is amazing! He takes those bits and pieces from the Hine captions, does some research, and then contacts relatives to tell them that he's found a picture of a family member working as a child. In most cases, they have no idea that their parents, grandparents or great-grandparents worked as children.

Photographs of our ancestors at work are not very common. Studio portraits rarely capture individuals in work attire. I wish I had a picture of my grandfather painting or of my grandmother in a factory, but I don't. If you have occupational photographs I'd love to see them. Follow the "how to submit your photo" guidelines.

This week, take a few minutes to interview family members about their work history. You might have a few surprises in store.

Solve your family photo mysteries with these books by Maureen A. Taylor: